Recipe for Forgiveness & Possibly Cirrhosis
by NeoNails
Summary: 1 shot of tequila. Half a wine cooler. A week of wallowing in his on misery. "I can't believe you're doing this. I really thought you were mature enough to handle this." angsty!Will centric.


I haven't written anything _Sky High_ wise in a while and I feel like I'm leaving my favorite fandom to get lonely. Ha. XD

This isn't my typical Warren/Layla, because it doesn't actually focus on them for once. I know. Shocker.

$4$

_And I wonder if you're happy or just glad to see me scarred  
__Did my drunken self-confession sober up your bleeding heart?  
__I am bending over backwards to get close to you but still I feel so far_

- "I Wonder," by Diffuser

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1 shot of tequila.

Zach was staring at him, sitting across the couch, hands on his knees. It was the quietest the giant fluorescent oaf had ever been in over a decade and a half of knowing him. It was unnerving as hell.

The whole goddamned situation was unnerving as hell.

"It's not your fault."

Of all the things for him to friggin' say…

"Did I say I thought it was my fault?" he snapped, fist crushing the shot glass in his hand like tissue paper.

"It's not their fault, either." In the back of his mind, he realized his hand was bleeding, but he couldn't work up the energy to care.

He didn't bother finding another shot glass. He just took a hearty swig straight from the bottle. "Yes it is," he whispered, voice cracking with anger.

1 bottle of tequila and 3 beers.

"You're going to have to talk to them eventually."

He tried to glare at her through bloodshot eyes, but even he knew that the only look he could pull off at the moment was pathetic. He was too drunk, anyway. He had superhuman strength, the ability to fly, but a 12-year-old girl could probably drink him under the table.

"He's your best friend, you asshole," Magenta snapped, pulling her dyed purple locks back in a ponytail. "And so is she, for that matter. You can't just ignore them because they've decided to get together. You knew this was going to happen- we all did."

He just grabs another Heineken, cracking it open with no effort and downing half the bottle. He refuses to admit that this could've been predicted- he was blindsided. He never noticed anything. They were in love. Because if this wasn't true, if he _might_ have seen something, something that maybe made him think they stopped being in love years ago, and maybe she had started noticing someone that had never stopped loving her, well…

Wouldn't that make him as much in fault as them?

And he refused to consider that possibility.

"God, I can't believe you." Her voice sounds more disdainful and disgusted than he's ever heard it, and as she stands up and snatches the bottle out of his hand, he can't bother to try and fight her for the bottle. This is the first time since his freshman year in high school that he's not sure he could win the battle, anyway.

1 bottle of tequila, 5 1/2 beers, and 2 glasses of Jack Daniels.

"You know, drinking this much and this frequently is not only bad for your liver and can lead to cirrhosis of the liver, but also brain damage and a loss of motor control." Ethan had been on this vein for the last twenty minutes, and he had yet to set down the bottle of Jack.

Throwing the half-empty glass of Jack on the rocks- he had given up on the glass two minutes into the lecture and just started in on the bottle- at him sure shut the geek up. It missed Ethan by a mile, but it made him stop and think. Maybe Ethan was right. Maybe he was drinking too much. What kind of guy was he to throw a glass at his friend without even thinking?

Magenta was right. He was an asshole.

As he heard the door gently click shut, he went back to drinking his Jack and wallowing in his own misery.

1 bottle of tequila, 5 1/2 beers, 1 bottle of Jack Daniels, and 1 glass of rum and Coke.

She was sitting there. She was sitting on their couch. She actually had the nerve to sit on _their_ couch.

"I really can't believe you're doing this," she whispered, shaking her head. She was staring at the bottle of Bacardi on the table. There was probably only enough left for two more drinks. "I thought you were mature enough to handle this."

He laughs, hollow and low, and picks up the rum and Coke. What was she thinking? She broke his heart. Did she think he was just going to move on and act like nothing happened?

"We hadn't had sex in almost 3 months," she said, so matter-of-factly that he stops staring stubbornly at the floor and looks up at her sharply, into those warm, chocolate-brown eyes.

"We hadn't had sex in 3 months, and it wasn't for lack of trying," she repeated, soft doe eyes for once hard and set. "This has been a long time coming, and you _know_ it. You do not have the right to act all wounded and hurt and miserable just because _I've_ moved on. You think I never noticed you check out other women while we were _still_ dating?" She shook her head again.

He looks away, unable to face this new Layla, this hard-edged, tough-as-nails girl that seems light years different from the little girl that was his best friend, confidant, and eventual girlfriend. When did she become so independent and strong?

He knew the answer. He just didn't want to deal with it.

He didn't want to deal with any of it.

"I'm so disappointed in you," she whispered, snatching the bottle of Bacardi, crossing the room, and dumping the remaining contents in the sink, so fast he could've sworn that made she had super-speed powers, too.

"Maybe I changed," she said, walking back into the room, eyes blazing like her fiery hair. "But you did, too. And at least I'm proud enough to say that I like the person that I see in the mirror." She threw the empty bottle in the trash, making her speech that much more final and that much more damning.

1 bottle of tequila, 5 1/2 beers, 1 bottle of Jack Daniels, 4 glasses of rum and Coke, and half a wine cooler.

He was the last one to visit him.

"You've drank so much in the last week that you're down to a wine cooler?" he asked, smirking as he stared at the sturdy cardboard box and the mug he'd filled with red wine. He tried to glare at Warren, but this attempt was even feebler than his try with Magenta.

He was pathetic. End of story.

He heard the clink on the hardwood coffee table and glanced up at the bastard, not bothering to ask the question aloud.

Warren shrugged, sitting down on the couch and untwisting the bottle. "I figured at this point you had to be low on supplies and thought it was the least I could do at this point."

He picked up two of the empty glasses that littered the table and filled each to the brim with the amber liquid. Warren pushed the glass over for him to pick it up, which he did, albeit reluctantly.

Both men downed the glass in one shot, Warren shaking his head and wincing slightly at the burn of the whiskey. He, on the other hand, was too far gone to even feel alcohol.

It took them ten minutes of silence to polish off the bottle.

"I really love her," Warren said, leaning back in his seat as the alcohol began to take its toll.

He nodded. He was pretty sure he couldn't respond at this point.

"I know we didn't wait long enough," he said. "You guys only broke up two weeks ago. That doesn't exactly leave a lot of room for a mourning period, I guess."

He was laughing. He didn't know why, but he was laughing. "Why am I even mourning?" he asked, his voice scratchy and weak from the booze and lack of use.

"Hell if I know," Warren said, laughing along with him. "I mean, you screwed Jenny two days after you two split. And she's _my_ ex. I figured that meant it was okay for us to move on."

"I didn't want to sleep with her," he said, cradling the glass in his hands. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, and he didn't want to be weak enough to cry in front of Warren, but he sure as hell wasn't strong enough to stop it. "It felt like she was the only one that cared at that point."

Warren chuckled again, shutting his eyes as the world began to spin. "Yeah, well, Layla thinks you still believe that."

He tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling as the tears began to slide down his cheeks. "I'm always going to love her, you know?"

Warren was silent for a long time. "Yeah, I know."

"I didn't know how to say goodbye to something I was so comfortable with," he continued, almost sobbing.

There was an even longer pause this time. "Yeah, I know."

The silence stretched across them, understanding giving way to more emotion and feelings than either one of them were ever going to be able to comprehend or deal with.

"I'm sorry," Warren said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees and putting his head in his hands.

Will stared back at him, choking on the regret and emotion, and said, "I'm sorry, too."

1 bottle of tequila, 5 1/2 beers, 1 bottle of Jack Daniels, 4 glasses of rum and Coke, 3/4s of a wine cooler, half a bottle of whiskey, and forgiveness.

$4$

Wow, I had fun with the angst this time. That and the booze. ;D

I liked it. Even if I'm not sure I pulled off angsty Will. I only get so many chances, and after listening to this song like 10 times today I decided that I had to make something like this. I didn't really have a plan in mind, but it worked out almost perfectly.

Now on to do actual work. XD


End file.
